Countdown to War, Day 22. 19 July: Germany puts weapons before democracy, Huerta gets out of Mexico, Pankhurst gets out of gaol, US money gets into Ireland

One hundred years ago today, on Sunday 19 July 1914, Martin the railwayman from Manchester might have collected the Observer from his Methodist Minister, and read about an exercise in Dulwich, South London, the previous day. Though it sounded gruesome, it had apparently been a good-humoured event.

Dulwich Village was under fire yesterday afternoon. According to the programme of the fourth annual inspection of the Camberwell Red Cross Nurses, England had been invaded but it cannot be said that the inhabitants of the district treated the situation with much gravity, for they turned out in their best white frocks and sporting suits to gloat over the “wounded”. ...

The injured, who wore their ills with astonishing optimism, were cared for by beaming nurses in smart blue uniforms and many of the spectators would have willingly been injured for the sake of the smiles given...

Amusing, he thought. Though he suspected that with real injuries, it might have taken more than a smile to lighten the mood.

Oh, that Huerta chap in Mexico was in trouble again. In fact he wasn’t even in Mexico any more.

General Huerta has decided to depart on board the German cruiser Dresden... It is understood that Jamaica is the destination... In the course of an interview General Huerta said: “When I assumed the presidency I said publicly that I would restore peace, come what might. I have paid. It has cost me the Presidency. To restore peace has been my whole and sole ambition.”

If Huerta’s only ambition had been peace and he’d been driven out by a military uprising, Martin couldn’t help feeling he’d fallen somewhat short of his aspirations.

Then there were some snippets that caught his eye, such as one under the headline: “American Money for Volunteers”.

The United Irish League has forwarded to Mr. Redmond £2,000 of the promised £20,000 to be used for the Nationalist cause.

Money from the US for John Redmond, leader of the Irish Party in Parliament? What business was it of Americans to meddle in the affairs of the United Kingdom?

An article headlined “Mrs. Pankhurst again released” reported laconically that the great Suffragette leader was back out of prison, if only for twelve days. But there was no talk of her speaking at any further meeting, as had been the plan before her previous arrest. 

French armoured cruiser Ernest Renan

The article “Brothers in Arms” was about one of the leading figures in the Royal Navy, Sir John Jellicoe, who wrote to a Frenchman and fellow vice-Admiral:

My dear de Marolles, – Last night nearly 70 officers, who took part in Chinese operations in 1900, dined together under the presidency of Sir Edward Seymour. I have been asked to write to you and say that they have not forgotten our French comrades, and that they drank their health and that of their brave leader, yourself. It is with great pleasure that I perform this duty. 

Comrades in arms, then. Some people rated the Frogs. Though Martin still wondered whether the safer money wouldn’t be on the Germans. But the Germans: they seemed terribly earnest about keeping their people down and their arms plentiful.

The Liberal papers are drawing attention to another telegram from the Crown Prince expressing approval of a political pamphlet in which the present Chancellor and his policy are handled in a not very flattering manner.

The recipient of the telegram is Professor Bueholz, of Posen, who, in his pamphlet, strongly combats the modern tendencies towards the democratisation of the German Government and affirms the necessity of further armaments.

Crown Prince Wilhelm with German troops
No more a bundle of laughs than last time we saw him

Depressing. Though not as depressing as finding out that Surrey had racked up an impressive 402 against Lancashire at the Oval the previous day. 

That wasn’t a match Martin’s county was likely to win.

Countdown to War, Day 19. 16 July 1914: talk of war. And – the shock of 1914 – mixed bathing in Manchester

One hundred years ago today, on Thursday 16 July 1914, Martin and his railwayman friends, reading the Manchester Guardian during a break in work, would have seen that the French Socialists at their conference had discussed strike action as a means of avoiding war.

The speakers were divided in opinion, some maintaining that it was useless to talk of revolts and strikes in war time since they knew that such movements were impossible, while others declared more confidence should be placed in the force of Socialism. This afternoon, M.Vaillant and M. Jaurès advocated a general strike as a means of preventing war.

Ah, yes. Jaurès. It took him a while to work out how to pronounce the name, but eventually he decided he must be the French Socialist the clever young men from University spoke of so highly at Labour Party meetings. A pretty significant figure, it seemed. And he was right: if preventing war wasn’t a big enough question for a general strike, what would be?

“Ah,” said the Cynic, “so now we think there might be a war to prevent?”

There were certainly enough trouble spots that could breed war around the world. 

The young men kept on reading the Guardian. “Huerta’s family leave”, they discovered: it seemed that the rebels had won in Mexico and the President was going. 

Just the day before they’d read about another arms shipment being seized on the way to Dublin; today it was “Confiscation of 1500,000 Cartridges” in “cement bags at Stockton”; apparently “they were going to Belfast”, so each side was clearly arming as fast as it could. 

Response to hunger-striking suffragettes
The torture of force feeding

A different kind of conflict was taking place even within England itself: an article headlined “Case against forcible feeding” quoted a speaker at a public meeting saying that the participants:

...were there to protest against torture, and especially against torture by forcible feeding as carried out in prisons. As medical men they wished also to protest against the degradation and prostitution of the medical profession by compelling its members to act as torturers and executioners.

Somehow, though, Martin didn’t think French trades unionists would be contemplating a general strike against the government of Mexico, or over the brewing civil war in Ireland – surely a British matter anyway? – and least of all over the mistreatment of British women in British prisons.

“No,” said the man holding the paper, “here’s a piece that’s nearer the mark.”

German Crown Prince Wilhelm
One can just imagine his charming line in self-deprecating humour

It was headlined “Germany’s hour of destiny” and concerned a telegram from the German Crown Prince to the author of a pamphlet that claimed:

... the military preparations in France and Russia will be so far advanced in the spring of 1915 that an invasion by such mighty armies as have never been seen before on earth must be daily expected.

War in Central Europe itself? Surely not. But the article pointed out that the Crown Prince had written:

I have read your excellent pamphlet with the greatest interest, and I wish it the widest circulation among our German people.

Did that mean that Germany was genuinely afraid it might soon face war? That didn’t sound good. 

Even more chilling was the piece about Hungary’s view on Serbia:

In the Lower House of the Hungarian Parliament to-day Count Tisza, the Premier, replying to an interpellation regarding Servian connections with the Sarayevo murders, said that Austria-Hungary’s relations with Servia must be made clear. [...] The question had been raised whether the present uncertainty must not inevitably be decided by war. He must say that the State which did not consider war the “ultima ratio” could not call itself a state.

“What the hell’s an ‘ultima ratio’ when it’s at home?” asked the man reading the piece out loud, “what’s wrong with using English in an English paper?”

István Tisza, Hungarian Prime Minister
A laugh a minute for an evening together, one imagines

But the question that had been asked was whether war was inevitable. Inevitable? That was far more sinister than anything he’d heard previously since that Archduke had been murdered. Were things turning nastier than Martin had imagined?

It lightened the mood when the reader regaled them with the news that an experiment in mixed bathing in Withington, near Manchester, had been a success. It had been carefully managed: 

The regulations of the Committee provided that individual bathers would not be admitted, and this was rigidly enforced. In the matter of costume the Committee had laid down strict rules. Men were permitted to wear only what is known as the University or Amateur Swimming Association costume of dark blue or black material, and women were also limited to a dark costume of like material. If bathers do not possess these they can obtain them at the bath upon a minimal payment.

“Let no-one say that 1914’s not a year for boldness, then,” proclaimed Martin.

“Cautious boldness anyway,” said the Cynic.

“I think I might go for a swim in Withington myself this weekend,” said Martin.

“Why? Do you think you can persuade a woman to go with you?” asked the Cynic.

The baths get bold in Withingotn